Amnesia
by MissGlasgow
Summary: Slight AU. Sharon took the job with the NFL and we jump ahead a year or so. Shandy smut, always :)


"It was no trouble, Sweetie. Really. I was happy to have the opportunity to come back up here and see how things have held up without me," Sharon replied as Rusty thanked her for bringing him the back-up hard drive he'd left at the apartment that morning.

"Well Captain, things certainly aren't as seamless as they were when you were around," Lieutenant Tao smiled through his glasses from the desk Rusty was leaning against.

"Not 'Captain' anymore, Lieutenant. Just call me Sharon," she replied, happily but not without a slight sigh. _Not Captain anymore._ "And it looks like everything is running just as smoothly." She gazed around the room—all the desks were in the same places, the same white boards, Lieutenant Provenza's change jar sitting in the same corner. She looked briefly up at the murder board, at faces she knew nothing about with "victim" and "suspects" and "co-conspirator" written in red headliners. She turned back to look at Rusty who shrugged and smiled sheepishly.

"So… I'll see you at home. Thanks again." Rusty was turning his body back towards Buzz and Lieutenant Tao as Sharon reached out to briefly squeeze his shoulder. "Yeah, I'll see you at home." And with that Sharon picked up her purse and turned to leave the Major Crimes offices. "We'll see you soon, Capt…uh, Sharon! The NFL seems to be treating you well!" Lieutenant Tao announced after her upon realizing she was leaving. Sharon turned her head and smiled back. "Thank you! I hope to see you all again very soon."

Sharon had hoped she might see more of the team when Rusty asked her to come up to headquarters. She had only visited once after cleaning out her office, and that was only to finish up some paperwork regarding early access to her pension. Because Buzz continued to help Rusty with his vlog, _Identity_ , she still got to hear plenty of stories from her former life. She could tell Rusty never quite knew how much she really wanted to hear. Neither did she, really. And he never mentioned Andy, despite Sharon having explicitly told him there was no reason to avoid it. Still, she could understand why he might not want to bring it up. And she did wish she could have talked with more of her former team. She would have liked to have shaken Lieutenant Provenza's hand, asked Buzz about the new girlfriend Rusty recently reported on, given Amy a hug. Really, she'd wished for a chance to thank her team and speak with them in the casual, intimate way friends speak with each other. In a way that was never allotted to her when she was their superior. Nonetheless, she was happy to have been up to see the office, even if her team wasn't all there.

She couldn't decide whether she was disappointed or not that Andy hadn't been there. On the one hand, she missed him. She had been missing him for almost a year. On the other hand, she's not sure what she would have said to him if he had been there. Small talk felt too small, and big talk, important talk, was miles behind them at this point. But it would have been nice to see his face.

Sharon slipped into a pair of lounge pants—a simple pleasure at 4pm—and went to check her email. Her new position with the NFL allotted her a great deal more regular vacation time than working for Major Crimes ever did, but it was also a constant demand for her attention, regardless of whether she was in the office or not. With the LAPD, in both Major Crimes and FID, she and her team would work relentlessly for a few days at a time, but then always there was an understanding that no one would answer their phones or email during off-time. _Someone better be dying_ as Provenza's curt expression came back to her. It was vital in their line of work to draw such boundaries. But in her new role as Director of Securities in the National Football League, Sharon may have had vacation guaranteed, but she never really had a day off. She was always expected to answer her phone, be available via email, and on some occasions even video into a meeting or two from wherever she was in the country. Which brought Sharon back here, to a blissful four-day weekend back in L.A., in the condo she spent too little time in already, sitting at her kitchen table waiting to hear back from the assistant security manager at Lambeau Field.

She leaned back in her chair and looked around the kitchen. She travelled so much in her new position and was sometimes gone for weeks at time. It seems as though Rusty lives more regularly in the condo now than she does. It shows, too, given the lack of food in the refrigerator. Sharon made a mental note to go to the market and maybe attempt a home-cooked meal for herself and Rusty—and Gus, if he's available—tomorrow night.

She glanced back at her screen and then down at her phone when she heard its soft buzz.

"Heard you were in the office today. Sorry I missed you."

Sharon caught her breath briefly after reading the sender's name. As a warm smile swam across her face, she picked up her phone to reply.

"Just dropped by to leave something for Rusty. Was only there a minute."

After five minutes without another response from Andy, Sharon had second thoughts about her matter-of-fact reply. Should she have inquired more about him? Said that she missed him too? She blushed slightly and rolled her eyes upon realizing that's not technically what he had said. Then another buzz.

"Dinner?"

Sharon kept tightening and readjusting her grip on the steering wheel. Should she have let him pick her up like he'd offered? Something about it just felt off, which is why she fibbed and said that she had to run errands anyway and would just meet him there. Surely he'll notice she hadn't been running errands when she shows up in her midnight blue wrap blouse, six-inch heels and an arguably too-tight skirt. Should she have worn something else? Getting dressed had been an adventure all its own, making her feel at once confident, unsure, indecisive, sexy, and just plain old. For some reason she didn't want to wear something he'd seen her in before (she kept herself from analyzing that one too much for fear it would make her anxiety skyrocket), and since the top was new she thought it might be a good choice. A seemingly inconsequential perk of her new job was significantly less pressure to appear buttoned-up and, if not masculine, then at least edging towards gender-neutral. Ironically, Sharon got to be much more feminine working for the NFL. Sometimes she wore peep-toe shoes, deeper cut blouses, curled her hair a little messier. She of course never looked unprofessional, but she did enjoy the freedom to shed the navy and grey blazers she'd grown so accustomed to in her previous job. Should she have suggested another restaurant? She was taken aback when Andy had proposed dinner at Monroe's. When they had been dating Sharon had begun to consider it "their place," as they ate there at least twice a month. She reminded herself, however, that the only reason Andy ever took her to Monroe's was because it was his favorite place in the city. So it had less to do with them and more to do with him, she decided.

Pulling up to the restaurant, she scanned the parking lot for both an open space and sight of Andy's car. Luckily she found the former without much difficulty. _He must not be here yet. I wonder what name he used for the reservation?_ Sharon checked herself once more in the mirror before exiting her vehicle. When she got to the hostess' stand, Sharon told the young woman with heavy eyeliner that she was here to meet Andy Flynn, or Andrew Flynn, as she corrected herself (although she didn't know why, she knows Andy never really uses his full name). The young woman smiled brightly back at her and began to scan her book.

"Sorry, it doesn't look like we have that name. Could it be under someone else?" The hostess broke the news like a very well-recited play.

"I don't believe so. You checked 'Flynn'? F-l-y-n-n?" Just as Sharon finished spelling Andy's surname he sauntered up to her from behind the hostess.

"Hey!" He said with raised eyebrows. He turned to the hostess and said "It's alright, Lindsey. She's the friend I was waiting on."

He turned back towards Sharon and leaned in for a brief, if not slightly awkward kiss on the cheek. Then, with a quick "after you" and outstretched arm, gesturing towards the back of the restaurant, Sharon took a step forward. Andy guided her through the tables with a soft hand on the small of her back. She noticed what an intimate touch it was, comfortable in its placement. Andy must have realized what he'd done too because he quickly removed it and simply gestured towards their table through the air. To be honest, she missed the touch a little.

Once seated, Sharon was unsettled by how easily she and Andy practiced their routine: he ordered drinks, a silent gaze at the menu (though Sharon was almost certain Andy would order fish and chips—he almost always did), and the ever-reliable opener, "How was your day?" When they had been dating, this question was a formality, and often Andy forewent the phrase altogether in favor of a more specific "So what do you think about…" or "Could you believe it when…" because, as would be expected, he always already knew how her day had gone, be it shitty or sensational. Today, however, the question remained.

It was odd, thought Sharon, that the very thing that was making her uncomfortable was just _how_ comfortable she was returning to these routines with Andy. It'd been many months since she'd shared a meal with the man, and over a year since she'd set foot in this restaurant, but nothing had changed: same burgundy curtains, same hand-stamped hardwood tabletops, she even recognized some of the old wait staff. She thought again about the way she felt in the murder room that afternoon, familiar but somehow removed.

"So… you've been good? You look good," Andy added. Sharon could tell he kept himself from acting too uncertain by throwing her an award-winning grin, even if he really was feeling sheepish.

"Very good. And thank you. I've been doing really well. You know, it's not a bad thing working for the NFL."

Andy chuckled quietly. "Yeah, single-handedly making the world safe for football? Isn't that what Rusty used to say?"

Sharon remembered the phrase and smiled to herself. "Well, not single handedly. That might be a bit too much responsibility." She took a drink from her water glass.

"No such thing as 'too much responsibility' for _Captain Sharon Raydor_ ," Andy replied as if he was announcing a morning superhero cartoon. Was he flirting with her? Maybe not, but he was making fun of her, which was almost as enjoyable.

Sharon smiled. "Not Captain," she corrected with a tilted eyebrow.

"Well hey, the president gets to be the president until he dies. I don't see anything wrong with keeping your title. I mean, you earned it." Another grin, and this time Andy threw in a wink. He _is_ flirting with her, she thought.

The waitress approached the table and, with a mid-western accent, asked what everyone would like.

Needles to say, dinner went smoothly. So smoothly, in fact, that Sharon had forgotten she had agreed to engage in another kind of conference call that night.

"Who's that? The new _boyfriend_?" Andy asked with exaggerated distaste. He was joking, but Sharon heard the slight tilt of his voice.

"No," she responded quickly after looking down at her cell phone screen. It had been the third time it had buzzed since they started dinner, and at this point she wasn't sure whether to ignore it or excuse herself to call her secret texter back.

"Well," started Andy, "it's certainly someone or he…eh hum 'they'… wouldn't think so lightly of trying to get ahold of you after 8pm on a Friday." Andy was right. Sharon wasn't exactly 'dating' the man on the other end of her texts, but at this point it had become obvious enough that she wasn't going to get away with a little white lie either.

"Really Andy, it's no one. Just let me shoot him a quick text…" Sharon had already picked up her cell phone and was furiously typing out a response.

Andy leaned in slightly on one elbow, caught Sharon's gaze and asked, "Who is he?"

The question was simple, loaded. Andy was genuine in his inquisition, but not so much as to make Sharon more comfortable.

She thought back on all the ways she could respond; all the ways she could put Andy at ease and pretend like the person that was messaging her was not, in fact, someone she'd gone to dinner with two or three times; someone she had not allowed to kiss her outside of her Miami hotel room; someone she didn't have every intention of calling back. But she would have been lying.

"Are you sure you want to go there?" She asked Andy with an unusual stroke of directness. She looked him dead in the eye, leaned forward slightly and rested on her elbow propped against the table.

"No. Now that you bring it up, I don't think I do." Andy's eyes saddened slightly. He was still smiling, but in a small kind of smirk that made Sharon wish she could touch his chin.

"Andy," she exhaled, waiting for something cheerier to come along in their conversation. She didn't have anything to add, just didn't want to pretend like they weren't two exes, sitting in front of each other in a poorly lit Irish pub, asking for a shift in the universe.

She locked eyes with Andy for what seemed like an eternity, but surely only lasted a few seconds. He finally shifted his gaze from her eyes, to her nose, to her long, flat mouth. He rested there for some time wondering if with the time they'd been apart he might have forgotten how she tasted. Sharon must have noticed this train of thought because her chest soon began to blush, only bringing Andy's gaze lower, lower to the strain of her already deep v-cut blouse. Sharon kept her eyes glued to Andy. Andy kept his eyes glued to her skin. He moved from her mouth down her jawline, finally settling in the valley of her clavicle—delicate and soft.

Andy was no longer trying to hide the track of his eye line. He wasn't pretending to look at his phone. He was looking at her, at every inch he could find of her, and refusing to turn away. Sharon blushed a deeper shade of red. It had been a long time since Andy had looked at her like this. A long time since this man had made her feel his want. And suddenly it was happening in the middle of Monroe's after what would have been an otherwise uneventful day. Sharon felt dizzy.

She breathed deeply, making her breasts rise and fall under their midnight sheath. Andy didn't move his gaze. Instead, he slowly, so slowly, leaned in towards Sharon. He drew his nose just below her earlobe, not quite against her neck, and inhaled deeply. He then planted his lips gently against her neck and kissed, softly, slowly, with tongue. Sharon closed her eyes and breathed again, knowing the instinct to lean her head against his and let him make his way up or down, as well as the instinct to pull away, insist that's not what she came for, and never see him again.

For better or worse, the former gave in and Sharon rested her neck and head in a crook that allowed for him to make better use of the exposed skin. Andy slowly kissed upwards, taking notice of her pulse-point and ear before moving to her jaw and yes, eventually to her relaxed mouth. He kissed her first, closed lips to closed lips, for several seconds. Then, as if encouraged by a well-known force, Andy opened his mouth and attempted interest in Sharon's with his tongue.

Sharon obliged.

After a swift, deepening kiss, Sharon let out something similar to a moan, but not nearly as confident. It was a whimper. Something that told Andy she wanted him as well as wished he would go. Something that questioned the very fiber of which she was made. Something that questioned strength itself.

Andy withdrew quietly and steadied himself on his side of the table.

Sharon took her time opening her eyes, sitting in a blissful state for a second or two, remembering the man's mouth against her neck. She opened her mouth to speak, but before she could Andy laid a short request on the table alongside the bread basket.

"Come home with me."

Sharon was speechless. She hadn't even gotten the chance to offer up what was sure to be a weak excuse to end their dinner so she could go home and lick her wounds in private. Andy stood by what he'd said. He sat casually at the table, shoulders square to Sharon, and steady stare that tore right through her.

She knew what she needed to say but wished desperately that she didn't have to say it. "Andy, I really can't. Rusty's home and you and I haven't even seen each other…" She trailed off. He sat across from her listening to the explanation he already knew by heart. He smirked. He's making fun of her again.

Sharon calmed down upon seeing the look on Andy's face. She smiled back at him. God she missed this man. "What would you have done if I'd said yes?" She recognized Andy had called her bluff before he even asked the question.

Andy laughed over another sip from his water glass. "Are you kidding? I'd have taken you home."

She laughed but blushed a little. _What if she'd said yes_. The waitress came back to ask about a dessert order. Andy made some mildly flirtatious comment about needing something sweet to finish his night. Sharon wasn't sure if he was flirting with her or the waitress. The waitress certainly giggled enough for the both of them.

Two slices of cheesecake and forty minutes later, Andy was walking Sharon back to her car. The restaurant had been busy when she'd arrived, so her car was in the corner of the back row. Andy's knuckles bumped Sharon's hand twice accidentally before he finally stretched out two fingers and caught hers. It wasn't holding hands, exactly. Just two fingers. But she didn't pull hers away and they walked the rest of the distance to her car in comfortable silence.

Sharon was rehearsing the exact words she needed to say to make this dinner successful; to leave here tonight without any regrets, saying everything she wanted to say and nothing more. When they got to her car she reached into her purse, pulled out her keys, and paused. She turned towards Andy who casually put his hands into his pockets and gave her a cool shrug. With an air of professionalism Sharon said, "This was really lovely. Thank you so much. I was, uh, sorry I didn't get to see you earlier. I appreciated the invitation tonight." She looked down at the keys in her hand and smiled shyly before peeking up at him above her downturned glasses.

"Well hey, word is you don't land in L.A. very often anymore. I figured I should make good on the chance while I had it." Again, the award winning smile. The stop-you-in-your-tracks smile. She remembered that smile.

Sharon smiled back at him and took a deep breath. _This man_ , she thought. "Okay well," Sharon opened the driver side door and tossed her purse in, "goodnight."

"Goodnight." Andy nodded towards Sharon. Sharon lifted her hand to brace on top of the opened car door and shifted to get in. Suddenly Andy took a step forward and put one hand over her forearm and the other shot to the back of her neck. He hesitated only for the microsecond it took to lock eyes with her before he kissed her. Hard. Fast. Long. With his whole mouth. Sharon gasped and gripped harder to the car door. She ran her other hand up Andy's bicep and shoulder. He pulled Sharon closer to him, continuing to kiss her with every ounce of energy he had to give. Once he'd pulled her far enough away from the car, he slammed the door shut and slammed her against it. She shuddered at the sudden movement and almost got the wind knocked out of her lungs.

Andy continued his assault on her mouth but moved his hands from her neck to her shoulders, down her arms, over her torso, around her hips. He grabbed both hands full when he reached her ass and crushed her against his pelvis. Sharon let out a small whimper. When he released her, his hands made their way back up her torso until he palmed her breasts through her cumbersome clothing. This elicited an all-out moan. There they were, grinding and pulling and thrashing against her car in the back corner of a semi-full parking lot like two teenagers after a football game. Sharon needed to get ahold of herself.

"Andy," she whispered.

"Sshhhhhh," he replied as he bit into her bottom lip.

"Andy." She asserted a second time. Andy assumed Sharon was going to tell him to stop, that their relationship was in the past and it wasn't wise to makeout in parking lots with former beaus. He was wrong.

"Take me home," she ordered. With another small affirmative glance, she dropped her car keys into Andy's upturned palm and walked over to the passenger side of the car. He settled into the driver's seat, turned the car on, and took her hand.

By the time Andy was pulling Sharon's car into his driveway, he could tell she was having second thoughts. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze and opened the door to step out.

Sharon fumbled with the door handle before taking a deep breath and stepping out herself. Andy gently took her hand and led her inside his house. Sharon was in the midst of pulling off her heels when she looked around the used-to-be familiar living room. Everything looked different. He had gotten rid of his couch and a cozy recliner that, honestly, was well past its time. Sharon had always thought it was charming that ever-stylish Andy refused to part with it. She associated it's sagging cushions and dingy-brown faded upholstery with the kind of hominess you can only find if you stay in one place long enough. But now it was gone. Why did she notice it? The existing furniture and new sofa had been re-arranged, and had he gotten new curtains?

Sharon must have been staring for some time because Andy's voice startled her so much she jumped when she heard it.

"Nicole," he said, throwing a short nod in the direction of the new décor. Sharon gave him a small smile of relief. She knew a woman had to have been involved at some point and was only too happy to learn his daughter had taken on the role.

"It's nice," She said in an encouraging voice, stepping further into the room.

"It's fine," Andy said with a smile, "She tried to throw out my chair."

At this, Sharon turned to Andy and chuckled. Yes, she remembered him. Andy raised his eyebrows and held out his hand to Sharon in an obvious gesture. She took it.

She followed him back into his bedroom where he released her to go turn on the lamp beside his bed. This, at least, had not changed. She smirked when she saw the old recliner stuffed into the corner of the bedroom. She began to take out her earrings and rest them on the top of his dresser, then her watch, her necklace. While she still had her back to him, she ran her hands self-consciously over her chest and torso, smoothing her blouse and sucking in her stomach. Slowly, she turned around to find he had already shed his tie and was resting, two hands back to support his weight, against his bedside table and watching her closely. Sharon took another small breath and looked back at the man in front of her; so familiar, so foreign. Sharon felt now the same way she did when she visited her childhood home town. She recognized it perfectly and yet did not expect the same in return, a stranger amidst neighbors. Someone irrelevant in the new circumstances of time. After several moments passed, Andy made a small huff and straightened up, still watching Sharon.

"Hey there," he smiled softly.

Sharon beamed back and untangled her hands. "Hi."

Andy walked towards her, placed both hands on the sides of her face, touched his nose to hers until her eyelids fluttered shut, and kissed her. Deep. Gentle. Sharon felt her heart break just a little more when he moved one arm to wrap around her waist and brought her whole body in contact with his.

She kissed him back, opening her mouth to his, moving her hands from the sides of his face, around his shoulders, around his waist until they were essentially hugging. _This_ , she thought. _God_. She moved her hands over his ass and up his back underneath the sport coat he was still wearing. Finally, she returned to his shoulders where she hooked each thumb under the collar of the coat and pushed it off his shoulders. He took the queue to pull his suspender straps off of his shoulders as well, until they were hanging at his sides. He continued to sprinkle kisses over her face and mouth as Sharon directed her attention to the buttons on his shirt. Once they had all been carefully undone, she pushed that off of his shoulders too. Andy stood in front of Sharon, hands on her shoulders, white undershirt not quite hiding the round of his belly. While keeping eye contact, she gently reached around to untuck the tee-shirt from the confines of his belt. Once it was comfortably undone, she flatted her palms to his chest and just stayed there, standing in front of him, forcing her fingers to resist the urge to move too quickly, inhaling his aftershave, feeling the warmth of his body through bleached cotton.

He bent down to kiss her forehead before turning her around in his arms so that he was hugging her backside against his front. Sharon could feel the growing bulge in his pants against her lower back. He pulled one arm across her front so that his forearm crossed her torso and he gripped where her leg met her pelvis. The other hand selfishly went to her breast and squeezed, gently at first, then not gently. He nuzzled his nosed into her hair and under her ear so she could feel his breath against her bare skin. He hugged her tightly like that for several moments, breathing hard, gripping harder, kissing up and down her neck and shoulder.

Sharon let out a soft moan that only served to egg Andy further on. He released her breast with a sigh and instead gripped both of her outer thighs, giving a quick squeeze before slowly pushing her skirt up. Slowly. When it started to bunch up around her waist, Andy had to remind himself that while the pillowy skin of her thighs was like a drug to his fingertips, it wasn't the most efficient way to rid her of her clothes. He released her legs and moved his hand to her back where he could unzip the skirt and surrender it to the floor. Once Sharon had stepped out of the garment and kicked it to the side, she turned back around to face him. They kissed. Andy moved from her lips to her jaw, to her ear and back. He then pulled away and landed one whisper of a kiss to the top of her nose. Then he dropped to his knees in front of her.

He smoothed his hands again up her legs, from behind her knees all the way up and over her ass until he found the elastic of her panty hose. He hooked his fingers in and began to pull down while also dipping his nose into the apex of her thighs, inhaling everything her body was promising him. God, he remembered her. Once he'd pulled the hose down her legs, she gracefully lifted each foot so that he could extract them from her completely. Finally, her silky legs were all his, unencumbered by even the slightest layer. He didn't stand up, however. He stayed on his sore knees and leaned in again to rest his head in the V of her body, breathing, resting, doing nothing at all but holding on for dear life.

Sharon dropped a hand to top of his head, ran her fingers through his silver hair. This woke Andy from his reverie enough for him to drop one quick kiss to the front of Sharon's panties and reach up for her hand to help him go the distance from the floor back to standing. She obliged and helped lift him, but he paused on his journey in time to trace her v-neck blouse with his nose—down one side then up the other—before landing a soft kiss low on her sternum.

"You smell good," he whispered when he made it back to her ear. She smiled.

"You feel good," was her response.

Andy smiled and kissed her again. "God, how long has it been?"

Sharon laughed out loud. She'd never been in a situation where such a cliché phrase was so appropriate. How long _has_ it been? Sharon couldn't think about that now. She was already testing every boundary her heart could take in one night. Why did he have to kiss her? Why couldn't he have just let her get in her car, wave goodbye from a distance, and let her disappear? She reminded herself not to blame Andy. He couldn't have known how much she's been missing him. How lonely she's been in the last 8 months. The one thing that helped Sharon make such a huge, life-changing decision was the reassurance that Andy would be by her side. Through her retirement, through the job transition, through the goodbyes and the changes and the mess. He promised he'd be by her side, and he was. For a while. Eventually their relationship caved to the same pressures of so many others: no time, missed texts, then missed calls; too few weekends at home and he was never able to come to her. They set themselves on diverging paths and didn't notice until all that was left of their relationship was a dusty conversation in a dusty coffee house in the middle of a Sunday afternoon; yes they loved each other, yes it was just too hard, and a promise to keep in touch.

She wasn't exactly surprised to have found herself back in Andy's arms. She always knew she had unfinished business with him, she just assumed that business would continue to go unfinished. She never saw him. Rusty never talked about him. She never talked to him herself (the promise to keep in touch more of an emotional sort than tactical). She never expected this. But as Andy brought his mouth back down her chest and palmed her breasts, she realized this night had been a long time coming.

Andy continued to layer kisses over her skin and massage her breasts over her top until Sharon's eyes fell shut and she let out a low hum.

"Take it off." She commanded breathlessly.

Andy smiled up at her from his bowed position and moved to lift the top up over her head. Andy's hair had become mussed when he'd dipped his head between Sharon's legs, and now Sharon's hair was slightly messy, tossled from the static in her blouse. Andy smiled, cupped her face in both hands and landed another hard kiss to her mouth.

Sharon dropped her hands to work on the buckle of Andy's belt, eventually loosening it and dropping his pants around his ankles. She smiled fondly at the blue striped boxers she found beneath. With his old boxer shorts and the sunken recliner in the corner, Sharon was slowly finding her way back to familiar territory. Andy then took a half-step away from her to clear enough space for him to lift his undershirt up over his head. She gently reached out to run the pads of her fingers over the curly, black and grey hairs that spattered his chest. He brought her to his chest again in a hug and began to dance, slowly, towards his bed. Sharon loved the gesture. She remembered dancing at his daughter's wedding, at the Christmas party, at Rusty's 20th birthday party. She remembered him.

When the back of Sharon's knees hit Andy's bed, he reached behind her to unhook the two clasps that kept her bra snuggly in place. Once it was released, he pushed himself forward on top of Sharon, where they tumbled onto his bed in a pile. She giggled softly and he tugged the bra off of her shoulders and cast it aside. With a surge of confidence Sharon pushed Andy flat on his back so she could climb on top of him and straddle his torso. Her full, soft breasts resting just inches from his mouth. Her hot, moist center sitting just inches above his now-fully erect boxer shorts. She flattened both hands over his chest, let her hair fall to the sides of his face, and kissed him like she might never get to kiss him again. He brought both arms around her back and hugged her to him, returning her kiss with equal fervor. Sharon began grinding her hips over Andy's stomach, making herself a little breathless and him ache just below the belt-line. When Andy had had about all that he could take, he quickly rolled them over so that he was lying on top of Sharon. She gave no indication that she minded the change of position and she gladly wrapped her legs around his waist and continued to kiss him.

Andy moved his kisses from Sharon's mouth, to her chin, to her clavicle where he left a wet trail from his tongue, down her sternum, finally over her breast. He kissed her only briefly before biting down on the stiff peak. Sharon hissed and let out a long breath when Andy soothed the spot with soft, warm licks. He had all but bruised her other side with relentless fingers, digging into the soft pillow and running a calloused thumb over her nipple. Sharon's whole body was on fire. Somehow this whole night felt elicit and secret. Andy continued his southern track of her body, nipping at her hipbone and biting at the lacy edge of her panties. Sharon took in a deep breath. "Andy," she said in a whisper, more of a mantra to calm herself than a name.

He pulled her panties down in a rush, over her knees and off her graceful feet before flinging them somewhere over his head. He didn't give her a moment before he landed his mouth right over her clit. He went to work immediately, massaging the bud with his tongue, nuzzling his nose into the hair on her pubis. He wasn't teasing. He wasn't going to slow down. He was fucking her. He was eating her. He was making up for lost time in a way that left Sharon doubting her ability to ever leave his bed again. One hand was palming her breast while the other came down to join his mouth, inserting first one, and then two fingers into her slippery center. Sharon let out a three-syllable moan and bucked her pelvis into Andy's face. She bent her knees, bringing her legs to forty-five degree angles. He pulled one thigh over his shoulder while her other leg fell to the side, opening herself up further to his exploration, tucking a small foot behind his head.

Andy continued his salutations until Sharon's hips were thrusting into him without her consent and her breath was ragged and weak.

"Andy," Sharon breathed, a small hand attempted to pull weakly at his neck. Andy knew she was going to bring him up from his exploration before finishing. She used to do that so they could go over the edge together and Andy didn't have to take his time in getting her there again once they did begin to have sex. Andy decided he wasn't going to let that happen tonight. Part of it was ego—he was confident he would be able to get Sharon to come a second time so she wouldn't feel like she was leaving him alone. The other part of it was pure selfishness. Andy had Sharon, _his_ Sharon, back in his bed, he knew, probably for the last time. Tonight wasn't about being fair, or courteous. Tonight was about making love to the woman he has loved for almost six years. It was about making her come as often and in as many ways as Andy could possibly think. So he ignored her. He ignored the weak attempt at his name. He ignored the gentle fingertips at his scalp. Instead, he scraped his teeth across Sharon's clit and sucked. Hard.

Sharon almost screamed. She unraveled so fast she felt like she got the wind knocked out of her. Her legs were shaking, her eyes squeezed shut. She was panting and could feel the slick wetness accumulate around her center and inner thighs. She slowly released her grip on the bedsheets and came down from her unexpected high. Andy gave her two calming licks and climbed up over her again. He wiped his mouth with a cupped palm and dried it on the bed.

Andy rested his forehead against Sharon's and waited for her to catch her breath. When she did, she kissed him so wildly, so passionately, caring nothing about the residue of her own pleasure she could still taste on his mouth. He almost needed to catch his breath himself.

She rolled him over, laid him out flat, and climbed to the foot of the bed where she could pull off his boxer shorts. Once he was free, she climbed back over him, directly above his throbbing member, and lowered herself, hot and wet, onto him. She leaned down and kissed him softly, resting for a moment before beginning her second descent into the fire. My God, she remembered him. Andy's hands gripped her hips and Sharon began to gently thrust back and forth. Small exhales and grunts could be heard from them both as they slowly picked up steam. Sharon reached out a hand to rest on top of the headboard for leverage and balance, a move that bent her over just enough so that her breasts her bouncing softly above Andy's face. She smelled divine. He felt like home.

She increased her rhythm until she felt another orgasm boiling to the center. Andy's movements had also grown jerky and dysrhythmic, but ever a man of his word, there was no way he was letting go without her. Sharon moved her free hand to her center and began to massage herself in small circles. She rolled her head back and arched her back slightly, making Andy's resistance more fragile than ever. After a few moments Sharon knew she was right on the edge of bliss. She leaned forward, never moving her hand from her center, and whispered in Andy's ear in a ragged, hollow breath. "Andy," she gulped for air, "I'm coming."

And she was. Two more thrusts and Andy was right there with her, breathless and sweaty and tangled in bed. Sharon collapsed on top of him, letting her bare chest and his stick together in the warm glow of lamplight. Once they'd caught their breath, she readjusted herself to lay more beside him, one leg still tangled in his, her head resting on his pillow. He turned his head to the side and brushed a stray hair away from her face. He remembered this.

Sharon woke before dawn in Andy's bed, when the blue-grey cast of morning still made everything look ghostly and cold. Andy must have gotten up at some point and turned the lamp off. She was naked and it was dark, so she blindly felt for her glasses on the bedside table. She needed to go.

She stood from the bed and found her skirt first, followed by her bra and her underwear. Where was her top? Sharon giggled to herself slightly when she saw that her blouse had landed on the arm of that stupid old chair. She walked over to it and withdrew the item, looking sadly from it to the sleeping man in bed. She slowly got herself dressed and padded softly into the bathroom.

She looked in the mirror and felt many of the same things she felt while getting dressed the night before: sexy, disheveled, uncertain, _old_. This time of morning was not kind to her. She had running mascara and bags under her eyes. Her hair was messy. She splashed water on her face and attempted to right her makeup. She ran her fingers through her hair and adjusted her clothing.

She walked back through the bedroom and out into the living room, where she grabbed her purse and shoes. Shooting a last glance around the room she no longer recognized, she turned back towards the bedroom. Andy stirred when he heard Sharon collecting her jewelry and putting it in her purse. He groaned an 'it's too early' groan and propped himself up on a pillow.

"Hey there," he croaked.

"Hi," she replied. "I have to get going. Rusty's home today and I…" she trailed off and half-gestured around the room, "He didn't think I'd be out all night."

"Yeah, okay." Andy said softly, with a hint of a smile.

"Okay." Sharon whispered during an exhale. _Okay_ , she thought. She picked up her bag and started for the bedroom door.

"Sharon?" Andy sat up as Sharon turned towards him with a soft "hmm?"

"What now?" He asked, looking straight back at her.


End file.
